


Brothers Are We

by TheEmcee



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Wild Target (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Big Brothers, Brothers, Comedy, Complete, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Meet the Family, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmcee/pseuds/TheEmcee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having brothers can be both a blessing and a curse. They may bicker, argue, and fight, but at the end of the day, they're there for each other, protecting and supporting and loving just like they've been doing their entire lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers Are We

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> A/N: I don't even know where this came from. Actually, no, I know exactly where this came from. I made a wallpaper type thing of some of the characters Benedict's portrayed and this kind of stemmed from that. I hope you all like this and let me know what you think. R&R. Enjoy!

~…~

Brothers Are We

~…~

Khan, being the oldest of the five brothers, was almost always the first one up and the last one down. It had been that way since he was seventeen and had to take over as patriarch of the family after their parents died in an automobile accident (drunk driver; nothing could be done to save his parents, but the inebriated woman survived unfortunately). How he had managed to raise his younger siblings successfully – and by successfully he meant not fucking them up anymore than they already were – Khan didn't know, but he had succeeded nonetheless. What surprised him even more was that he had managed to obtain and maintain a job as a software engineer. Surprising because he had a temper that fluctuated constantly, but it was where he met Jim.

Jim Kirk was also a software engineer, something that kept him out of trouble and helped him apply his intelligence to something important. He wasn't as smart as Khan; it seemed that not many people, aside from Sherlock and, on occasion Peter, were. But the blonde had intrigued Khan from the moment their eyes met. Bright blue to bright blue-grey; the connection between them was so instantaneous that Khan was shaken by it, unable to stop himself. Having never experienced something like that, he chose to ignore it and Jim Kirk unless it was to throw an insult his way or something similar. His icy attitude towards the blonde didn't lighten up for almost a year.

It wasn't until Jim had helped Martin out that Khan decided that maybe he should give in to what he felt for the blonde.

Martin was the youngest brother, the baby of the family, and not as bright as the rest of them. That didn't mean that he wasn't intelligent; he knew an awful lot about airplanes and piloting and flying and all of that – when he was younger, he even wanted to be an airplane – but he wasn't as knowledgeable about other things as Khan, Smaug, Peter, and Sherlock were. One day, after failing his second certification, Martin had showed up at Khan's work, almost in tears and barely holding it together, needing his big brother's support and confidence. Jim found him first, since Martin was standing awkwardly in the lobby of the building, and, naturally curious, asked him what had happened.

Being the sensitive person that Martin was, he babbled to Jim about it and, as a result, Jim took him out to lunch. Khan, who had been busy at work and had no idea his brother had shown up, had had no idea until he saw the two of them walking about into the lobby after Jim's lunch break. Fierce protectiveness for his brother and jealousy that Jim had chosen his brother over him, Khan stormed over to them and demanded to know what was going on – in a much colder and calmer tone of voice than what he actually felt. When Martin had told him what had happened, all of that melted away and Khan felt nothing but appreciation and doubt for the first time. Usually able to read people quite well, he wasn't used to being proven wrong about someone. Having thought of Jim as a self-centered, egotistical prick, Khan began rethinking and reevaluating his opinion of the younger man.

Things between them improved drastically and after a few months of friendship, Khan took Jim out on a date. Their first of many. Now, three years later, Khan and Jim were still together, still strong, and Jim was part of the family. Khan's brothers all loved him, even Sherlock, who didn't really care for anyone who wasn't family or John.

A lot had happened in those three years aside from Khan finding his mate. Each of his brothers had gone through a lot and had been affected by their own trials and tribulations. For Smaug, it was his kleptomania and his stint in prison; for Peter, his break up with Richard and his job as Smiley's right hand man; for Sherlock, his drug addiction and letting John in (and John in general); and for Martin, his work at MJN Air, free of charge, of course (silly, baby brother). Now, though, things had settled down and reached normalcy – or what their family called normalcy. Regardless of the terminology used, Khan was just satisfied that his brothers were safe and sound, even if they could get annoying, what with them all living under one roof.

~…~

"Smaug, stop," Bilbo told him as he tried unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his boyfriend's grasp. Smaug only tightened his embrace, burying his face in Bilbo's neck, nuzzling and kissing the skin. Despite his protests, which were weak to begin with, Bilbo ceased his struggling and relaxed into Smaug.

"Why? I know you don't want me to," Smaug said, smirking, his voice low and thick with sleep and desire. He wanted nothing more than to remain in bed with his most prize possession: Bilbo. However, although the small blonde wasn't putting up much of a physical fight to leave, his brain and mouth were.

"I have to go to work, Smaug. I'm the only one opening the bookshop and no one else comes in until ten," Bilbo replied. Smaug placed a kiss to Bilbo's ear, causing him to shudder deliciously in his arms. Pressing his body even closer to Bilbo's, if that was even possible, Smaug's erection rubbed against his boyfriend's ass.

"Call off," Smaug suggested simply as he ground himself against Bilbo. A soft moan escaped him and he met Smaug's grinds with his own.

"I can't. You know that. And you should be getting up and getting ready for work as well," Bilbo told him, turning around so he could kiss Smaug. Tanned hands came up and cupped Bilbo's face, turning the kiss from chaste to passionate as Smaug's tongue ran over his bottom lip. Just as he was about to crawl on top of the small blonde, Bilbo somehow managed to slip smoothly out from underneath him and get out of bed. Smaug collapsed against the pillows and groaned loudly.

"Bilbo!"

"I told you I have to get ready for work, but you didn't listen," Bilbo said calmly, completely ignoring his boyfriend's distress. Instead, get pulled out a nice shirt and pair of pants and opened their bedroom door.

"You're going to pay for this later tonight," Smaug threatened as he rolled out of bed. He let the sheets fall off of his body, exposing his naked body, his erection standing tall and proud. Glaring at Bilbo, who only smiled innocently at him, he made his way over to his closet and debated about what he'd wear for work. "I'm going to make you beg for my cock by the time I'm through with you and you'll never defy me again. Are you listening to me? Bilbo?" Turning, he realized that Bilbo was no longer in the room.

Forgetting the clothes, Smaug left the room and made his way to the bathroom. As usual, the door wasn't locked. Living in a house with eight other people aside from himself, Bilbo had stopped locking the bathroom door. Although there were two other bathrooms in the house, Bilbo never took the chance. He was always courteous and thoughtful towards others whereas Smaug went out of his way to be rude and rarely did anything nice for anyone except Bilbo and Khan – Bilbo because Smaug loved him and Khan because he was the big brother and had no problem hurting Smaug if he got too out of hand. But unless he was in a charitable mood, he wasn't particular nice to his other brothers or anyone else. Just Bilbo and Khan. Today, however, was an exception to that rule, for Bilbo had defied him his carnal pleasures and for that he must be punished.

Opening the bathroom door, Smaug didn't even bother to glance at the closed shower curtain. Bilbo always took a shower every morning before work. Without saying a word, he grabbed Bilbo's clothes and left the bathroom. Continuing towards the end of the hall, he looked out the opened window and without a second thought, tossed his lover's clothes out of it. Pleased at himself, Smaug turned around and bumped right into Martin.

"Oh! Sorry, Smaug," his ginger haired brother said. And then he blinked and realized that Smaug was completely naked and semi hard. "Jesus! Put some bloody clothes on, would you?" His face redder than his hair, Martin started going down the stairs.

"Don't act as though you haven't seen me naked before because you have!" Smaug called after the baby of the family. Turning back, he caught sight of Peter, coming towards him, dressed in one of his suits, ready to go to work. Catching sight of Smaug naked, Peter merely shook his head and smirked ever so slightly before he passed by Smaug and headed downstairs.

Finally returning to the bedroom, Smaug pulled out a pair of boxers and put them on. Then he started taking out a pair of trousers from his closet and a nice dress shirt. Nothing too fancy or impressive today; Wednesdays always proved to be quite slow at his gold and coin shop. Just as he was putting his shirt on, Bilbo came into the room, looking thoroughly annoyed and exasperated. His eyes narrowed when they found Smaug, who smirked at him and ran his golden eyes over his boyfriend's naked, wet body.

"What did you do with my clothes, Smaug?" Bilbo demanded. Smaug's smirk widened and he began to button up his shirt.

"I threw them out the window," he answered simply.

"And why would you do that?" Bilbo asked him, entering the room and going over to his closet to pull out another set of clothes.

"Come now, Bilbo. You of all people ought to know that I'm not above petty revenge," Smaug said. Walking over to him, he bent and placed a kiss to Bilbo's soft, blonde curls. "I'll see you at the breakfast table." With that, he left his blonde to steam and fume while got dressed for work. It may be a Wednesday, but it would be a good day for Smaug.

~…~

Peter had a new hobby, one that he hadn't told anyone else about because, honestly, they wouldn't have believed him in the first place. Everyone knew that Peter was a dedicated worker who was fiercely loyal to Smiley and had a rather nasty temper that had caused more than a few black eyes and split lips. His calm façade was merely that: a façade. Underneath, he was quite passionate and determined and ruthless with a few quirks thrown in – just like anyone else. However, his new hobby had more to do with his own personal fascination than anything else.

As one of Smiley's best men, Peter was often asked to do things that revolved around the government – made perfect sense. One job he had completed quite recently was to tail and sabotage an assassin's assignment to exterminate one of the members of Parliament. Why the member was wanted dead, Peter didn't know nor ask; all Smiley told him to do was to ensure the assassin failed using any means necessary. Considering his all too recent break up with Richard, who Peter had been with for three years, Peter was more than thankful to have something to occupy his mind aside from paper work, which wasn't enough of a distraction from his heartache.

Hector Dixon, however, was. He was the assassin who had been ordered to kill the Parliament member. It was obvious from his demeanor that he was naturally irritated and aggravated and determined. Not only that, but he was good at his job, very good, but despite all of that, Hector was pretty cute and attractive. Peter liked him immediately and knew without a doubt that he was attracted to him. It didn't hurt that almost every Thursday, if he didn't have a job to do, Hector would visit the same café that was a mere five minute walk from his apartment.

Peter made sure he was there every Thursday, just in case.

And he knew that Hector was aware of him. They had locked gazes quite a few times, although not enough to satisfy Peter in the slightest. He didn't even know or understand why he felt so drawn to Hector, but he was. While they hadn't spoken yet, Peter noticed that Hector noticed him and was irritated that he always seemed to be there when the assassin stopped by. It wasn't stalking; Peter wasn't like that, he wasn't that desperate, but he didn't mind drinking mediocre coffee if it meant seeing Hector almost everything Thursday.

Today, however, was different. Nothing at work changed, but when Peter arrived at the café, he was pulled aside roughly by a very angry looking Hector. Unable to stop himself, Peter grinned down at Hector, who seemed even more annoyed at his grin than anything else. While Peter could have easily pulled away, he enjoyed being so close to the shorter blonde.

"You," Hector growled. "You've been watching me. Why?" There was a gun, naturally, in Hector's hand and Peter couldn't help but like the rush and thrill of the entire situation, something he hadn't felt in a long time, not even with Richard.

"Well, to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure how to approach you." Peter decided to play dumb. Why reveal all of his cards in the first round? "You see, I just moved here with my brothers and my work's not far from this café. I sort of developed a crush on you after coming here so much."

"Don't lie to me. You only come here on Thursdays," Hector hissed at him, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He looked incredibly adorable when he was angry and aggravated, Peter decided. It was almost too much.

"I get paid on Thursdays," Peter replied.

"Not every Thursday," Hector retorted. "Now either you tell me what you're up to or I'll end you."

"I would enjoy that," Peter said pleasantly, a flirty smile on his face. Hector groaned in frustration and let Peter go, much to his disappointment.

"You…you….you…!" Hector stuttered, at a loss as of what to do. It seemed as though Peter's strategy had worked. Perhaps he would tell Hector exactly what he had been up to and why he had been practically stalking him, but not for a while yet.

"Do you want to get some coffee with me?" Peter asked him. At the question, the assassin stopped his grumbling and turned and looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

"What?" he said, his eyes narrowed and full of suspicion. Peter smiled at him, hoping to reassure him and calm him down. His efforts were more than likely useless, but it was worth a shot regardless wasn't it?

"I asked you if you wanted to get some coffee with me," Peter explained.

"Why would I do that?" Hector asked him, his suspicion written clearly on his face. He had a right to be suspicious. If he knew what Peter really did, what he had been doing, he would probably lose whatever cool he had left. That wouldn't be good for either of them. It would draw too much attention and Hector's blood pressure would most likely sky rocket.

"Because we are standing outside of a coffee shop and I'm pretty sure that we both intended to get some coffee," Peter reasoned, smiling down at Hector. "So, why not to it together?"

"No," Hector said, shaking his head determinedly. Peter's smile vanished.

"Why not?"

"Because you're annoying, that's why," Hector told him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be." With that, he left. But Peter wasn't dissuaded. He was determined to get Hector to say yes to him and he didn't care how long that took.

For the next couple of weeks that followed, Peter returned to the café every Thursday just like before. Hector would either already be there or would arrive soon after Peter. And every time, Peter would ask Hector if he'd like to grab a cup of coffee together and every time he was denied. He wasn't going to give up, however; with each time, Hector's resolved dwindled and it was as plain as the nose on his face. Seeing him grumble and growl and get flustered only told Peter that Hector was at least interested in him.

"Would you like to get some coffee today?" Peter would always ask him, a grin on his face and his eyes twinkling. Both he and Hector knew that the shorter blonde would say yes. Eventually. And if only to shut Peter up.

"No," Hector would grumble and either walk past him or leave the café all together. It was amusing and Peter couldn't help but find Hector more and more appealing with every encounter.

Finally, after about a month and a half of pursuing their coffee date, Peter finally got the answer he wanted.

"Would you like to get some coffee with me today?" he asked Hector before they entered the café.

"Will it make you go away?" Hector said, sighing heavily and without as much fire and passion as he usually did. This week must've been a tough one for him and Peter's heart ached for him.

"That's for me to know and you to find out, isn't it?" Peter teased, putting his cigarette out and flashing Hector a flirty grin. That seemed to lift Hector's spirits, if only a little, because his eyes seemed to lighten. Ah, like any good man, he loved a challenge. Perfect.

"In that case, why not?" Hector said. Peter grinned down at him and opened the door to the café.

"My name's Peter by the way," he said once they had stepped inside.

"Hector."

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless and one that Peter relished. And he had a feeling that this was only the beginning.

~…~

"You're angry and stressed out. I can tell because your brow is furrowed, your left eye twitches every ten seconds, twelve if you're calming down, and five if you're recalling your day, and your shoulders are tensed up, which only occurs whenever you have a particularly stressful or bad day at work. You got into another argument with your First Officer – don't look at me like that; I can tell because you always pick at the cuffs of your jacket to keep yourself preoccupied – and you're in love with him, which everyone has known for the past few months. However, you have yet to say anything which has lead you to become sexually frustrated and short tempered. Interestingly enough, you seem to calm down whenever you're around him, unless he says or does something particularly upsetting, such as mentioning how anal retentive you can be, but even then you're not as upset as you are now. That causes me to believe that you've mentally berated yourself while on your way here, as you do every day, but especially on days when you've almost told Douglas how you feel about him. You're not good enough; you're just a child to him; why would he want you anyway? No need to tell me I'm correct; I already know that I am," Sherlock finished. Martin gapped at him before he shut his mouth and glared at his older brother.

"You haven't much room to talk you know," Martin growled at him.

"Don't I, Martin?" Sherlock asked him, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew he was being cruel but he couldn't help it. Not like he usually could; not today.

"You don't because you can't even tell John that you love him even though you've been with him for three years," Martin retorted angrily. "Who's the pathetic one now?" With that, he left the room and continued upstairs to his attic bedroom. Sherlock glared coldly in his wake, reprimanding himself that he shouldn't become exhilarated and unnerved by the mere mention of John.

John, who hadn't been around for the past three days.

John, who had been in Sherlock's life for longer than anyone else aside from his brothers.

John, who had told Sherlock time and again over the past three years of their relationship that he loved Sherlock and would do anything for him regardless of how much a pain in the arse he could be.

John, whom Sherlock had upset tremendously when he flat out refused to say, "I love you", practically screaming 'no' even though all John had asked was for him to say it once.

John, who was more important to Sherlock than his own brothers.

And he hadn't answered any of Sherlock's texts or arrived at the house when he was told to at all. It was Sherlock's fault and he knew that. He kept pushing John away even though he trusted him more than anyone else. But he couldn't admit his feelings. Logic and his work had always held his entire focus; they had been his sword and shield, his friends, and his ever constant companions in a world that didn't understand him and even ridiculed and shunned him for his brilliance. John threatened that and at the same time he gave Sherlock an outlet. He gave Sherlock everything as a matter of fact.

He gave Sherlock his time even when it made John late to work or put him in a bad spot with his boss.

He gave Sherlock his mind, which, surprisingly, came in handy on many occasions.

He gave Sherlock his trust and right after only having known him for a few hours. No one had ever done that; no one willingly placed their lives in Sherlock's hands, not the way John had and always did.

And John gave Sherlock his heart and didn't appear to want it back. He always looked out for Sherlock and always cared for him even though all he got was grief for it. Truly, John was a rare specimen among insects and Sherlock hadn't even realized it until just now, when John was gone. Now more so than ever, Sherlock felt like a coward. Never before had he felt like this, like his chest was being ripped out just because John was not there and had not spoken to him for three days. Sherlock most definitely did not like this feeling and he wanted it to go away more than anything. But how?

Drowning himself in experiments would only preoccupy his mind and distract him for so long. Two days, if that; more like one since Khan had told him to stop trying to attempt to blow up the house and had banished all human body parts from the refrigerator (he forgot to mention animal body parts, however). And there were no cases right now; Lestrade hadn't called him for the past three days. Perhaps John had told Lestrade about their recent argument. Lestrade seemed to prefer John over him; his cold behavior toward Sherlock clearly reflected his disapproval.

Therefore, Sherlock concluded, the only way to resolve the issue at hand was to admit his feelings for John. Yes, he had already told John that he was sexually attracted to the good doctor, but this was something entirely different. This…this was frightening and Sherlock felt the disgusting presence of doubt bubbling up within him. After all, John could always settle for someone else, someone more open, more appreciative, and more normal. That very thought, however, frightened Sherlock even more; losing John was something he would not handle well at all. If he wanted to keep John in his life, Sherlock would have to tell him that he loved him. Although it would be hard, a life without John would be even harder.

The door opened and Sherlock opened his mouth to tell whoever had the nerve to interrupt him while he was in his mind place to piss off, but he stopped. Making his way into the house as he had done so numerous times before was John. When their eyes met, John smiled and for a moment, Sherlock actually forgot to think. Why did John's smile right then make the entire kitchen seem bright? Why did it make Sherlock's stomach flutter? Was he really in love? Yes, yes, he must be. That was the only explanation for his reaction.

"John…" he said, his voice suddenly rough and hoarse.

"Sherlock. Have you been behaving yourself?" John asked. Sherlock glared at him.

"You've been gone for three days. You haven't texted or called me and you've given no explanation for your sudden return and yet you have the audacity to make fun of me," Sherlock seethed. John's smile faded and he blinked at him.

"Sherlock, I texted you numerous times and called you three times over the past three days," he said. "Didn't you check your phone?" Sherlock snorted.

"Of course I checked my phone. I-" He stopped talking when he tapped his phone. It revealed nine missed called – all from John – and about a dozen text messages – also from John. Oh. "There's always something…" he mumbled.

"What was that?" John asked him.

"If you were so worried about me, why didn't you come over then?" Sherlock snapped at him. "Were you still angry with me? Did you want to hurt me in some way?"

"Angry with you? Where is this coming from?" John asked, walking over to him. Sherlock observed him. John didn't appear angry; his body wasn't tensed, his brow was furrowed, but in confusion, and there was no heat in his eyes. He appeared normal, if not slightly perplexed. So, normal.

"You didn't show up for three days," Sherlock stated simply.

"Yes, I told you that I'd be visiting my sister for a couple of days," John said. "Did you not hear me when I told you?"

"It is possible that I deleted such information as I thought it was useless at the time," Sherlock replied. John shook his head, but chuckled and smiled all the same.

"For a genius, you can be a right git at times. You know that, don't you?" John told him, gazing at Sherlock fondly, love apparent in his eyes. "Anyway, why would you think I was angry with you?"

"Because…" Sherlock hesitantly said. He swallowed and looked at John. His John. His. No one else's. "Because I haven't said 'I love you' yet. You seemed angry when I didn't say it the last time you were present. I believed you were avoiding me because of it."

"Oh, Sherlock," John said softly before he wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a hug. After a moment's hesitation, the hug was returned full force by a clingy Sherlock. "It would have been nice to hear you say it before I left for my sister's. We haven't been apart for longer than a few hours since we met. I wasn't sure how I'd handle not seeing you or even hearing your voice while I was away."

"It would appear that we're both fools then," Sherlock said, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I do believe so, yes," John agreed. Sherlock pulled away and stared down at him. How on Earth did he ever believe before that he could live without this man? The answer was quite simple: he couldn't. And he didn't want to, either.

"I…I love you, John," Sherlock managed softly, still uncertain which unnerved him to no end. But the smile that John gave him upon hearing those words outshined the sun and it was worth it.

"I love you too, Sherlock," John responded honestly.

~…~

"Martin, we don't have to go through with this if you don't want to," Douglas told him as they pulled into the driveway of the house Martin shared with his brothers. Tonight was the night that Douglas would meet his brothers, his crazy, maniacal, insane brothers and he was not looking forward to it at all.

"Well, we're here so we might as well get it done and over with," Martin said, getting out of the car. He heard his First Officer sigh and follow his lead.

"If they're anything like you, Martin, I think we'll get along swimmingly. Especially if they enjoy witty banter and jokes as much as you do," Douglas told him. Martin rolled his eyes.

"Oh, honestly, Douglas, can't you take anything seriously?" he snapped.

"I was only joking, Martin. Hopefully your brothers will have more of a sense of humor than you do," Douglas said. Before Martin could even open his mouth to retort, he was silenced with a chaste kiss. When Douglas pulled away, he smiled.

"What was that for?" Martin asked, not that he didn't enjoy it. He did very much so, but public displays of affection weren't something Douglas did very often.

"There are two reasons why I did that," Douglas replied.

"Only two?" Martin said, his tone disbelieving.

"Yes, only two. One, to shut you up," Douglas said. "Although you do look very cute when you're nervous and fidgeting. And two, because one of your brothers is watching us." At that, Martin pulled away, flushing furiously and stuttering like mad. Damn Douglas! Damn him!

"Wh-wh-wha-what?" Turning, he saw Khan standing on the front porch. He didn't say or do anything; he just stood there with a calm expression on his face. But he looked far more intimidating to Martin than Carolyn ever did, and that was saying something. Douglas, completely ignoring Martin's reaction, turned and all but beamed at Khan, the arrogant arse.

"Ah! You must be Khan!" Douglas said as he led Martin up toward the porch. "Martin's told me about you and his other brothers. It's so nice to meet you at long last." He shook Khan's hand and Martin wasn't seeing things when he saw Douglas wince at Khan's grip. Ha! Petty revenge was the sweetest kind.

"Nothing too abominable I hope," Khan said calmly, although when he let go of Douglas' hand, Martin saw that it was a bit red. When he had mentioned bringing Douglas over for everyone to meet him, Khan had seemed perfectly fine with the idea. But then again, Martin could never read his oldest brother.

"Oh, you know, just the usual stuff," Douglas said pleasantly enough. Martin could barely see Khan's eyes narrowing ever so slightly at that. "But it really is nice to finally get to meet you all."

"Likewise, Douglas," Khan said before he stepped aside to allow them to enter the house. "Peter is in the kitchen, so dinner will be ready shortly."

At that, Martin inwardly let out a relieved sigh. Thank goodness it was Peter who was making dinner tonight. Khan would most likely poison it, being the overprotective brother that he was and Sherlock, who couldn't cook to save his life anyway, would add something to it for experimental purposes. Smaug always liked to make spicy dishes and always managed to burn everything, even tomato soup. Peter, however, was the best cook among them and the most normal out of them all. Although, in all fairness, Martin used the term 'normal' very loosely when talking about his brothers, so he supposed that calling Peter the normal one wasn't saying much.

The three of them walked into the living room and Martin and Douglas sat down on the couch while Khan preoccupied his usual chair. Thankfully, the TV was on and making up for the awkward silence that had fallen upon them. Khan was staring intently at Douglas, obviously sizing him up, and Douglas, bless him, appeared as though he had no idea that he had entered the lion's den.

"So, Martin's told me that you're his First Officer," Khan began, his tone challenging Douglas to try and lie to him. Oh, Martin couldn't wait until this dinner was over.

"Yes, that's right. I used to be a pilot for Air England before I was fired for smuggling," Douglas said almost proudly.

"Smuggling, eh? And what exactly were you smuggling?" Khan asked him, his blue-grey eyes cold and calculating. Douglas shifted ever so slightly beside Martin and without thinking about it, Martin reached out and grabbed his hand. Of course, his brother caught that move and the two of them shared a look before Martin spoke up.

"It doesn't really matter, does it? At least it's not as bad as what Smaug did," Martin said, practically challenging Khan himself. He couldn't help it; he didn't want Khan to scare Douglas away. Martin didn't know what he'd do if his brother's behavior and comments caused Douglas to leave him.

"Considering that he was a pilot of an airline, Martin, it's not quite the same thing as retail theft," Khan said evenly.

"At least Douglas didn't go to prison," Martin mumbled. Before Khan could say anything, Peter entered the living room.

"Dinner's ready. I've already told Smaug and Sherlock," he told them. Martin's blonde older brother turned to Douglas and smiled at him, offering his hand. "I'm Peter. And you must be Douglas." Standing up, Douglass shook his hand.

"Why yes, I am. It's nice to finally meet you," Douglas told him with a smile.

"Yes, it is. Martin's told us all a lot about you," Peter said and let go of Douglas' hand.

The four of them entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. Already sitting on the table was a large pan of fettuccine alfredo, a large bowl of salad, and some bread sticks. Peter really did do a good job for tonight's dinner. Martin knew for certain that it was poisoned. It had to be. Why else would Peter, who was almost as dangerous as Khan, go to so much trouble in regards to dinner? His brothers were going to eat Douglas alive and spit him out.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and Martin could hear Smaug and Bilbo talking. Or rather, arguing from the sound of it. Martin almost shook his head. Those two argued worse than he and Douglas did, and that was quite a feat because he could argue with Douglas all day long until they were both blue in the face. However, Smaug and Bilbo seemed to argue nonstop and yet they still remained together. How ever did that work?

"Honestly, Smaug, you've already done time for theft. Why on Earth do you think setting someone's house on fire would be a good idea?" Bilbo asked as he and Smaug entered the kitchen. Martin's eyes widened and he looked at Douglas out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction. Douglas had stopped sipping his glass of water as soon as the two entered the kitchen and was gazing at them with a curious expression on his face. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

"Oh, hello," Bilbo said to Douglas before Smaug could respond. The small blonde sat down at the table and gave Douglas a friendly smile. Douglas smiled in returned while Smaug sat down beside his boyfriend with a huff.

"I'm Bilbo, Smaug's boyfriend. You must be Douglas," Bilbo said and offered his hand to Douglas. Smaug watched them as they shook hands and Martin was partially relieved that Bilbo liked Douglas while also partially worried about what Smaug was going to say – and he always had something to say.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo. And you too, Smaug," Douglas added, extending his hand. Smaug sneered at his hand and didn't shake it.

"So, you're the First Officer Martin's bedding," Smaug said, his golden eyes narrowed suspiciously at the older man. If Martin's face got any redder, his head would explode and rain blood everywhere.

"Smaug, don't say it like that," Khan said, causing Smaug's glare to waver. He then added, "No one says 'bedding' anymore unless they're from the 1940's. Oh, wait…" He and Smaug both stared at Douglas, who shifted in his seat and took another drink of his water.

Martin wanted to shoot himself.

"Where's Sherlock?" Martin asked, hoping to defuse the tension and the awkwardness.

"He sent me a text saying he's not coming down," Peter explained. "You know how Sherlock is. He'd rather not eat or sleep."

"Or be human," Smaug added with a snicker. Bilbo sent him a glare, but it was ignored.

"He'll come down," Khan said, the threat clearly implied. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. "There. He'll be down in a minute."

"Well," Bilbo began as they waited for Sherlock. "Douglas, you're Martin's First Officer, right?"

"That's right," Douglas said, smiling good naturedly. "Although we both know who the better pilot is, based off of experience of course." He said it jokingly and Bilbo and Martin both understood that and even laughed – well, Bilbo laughed; Martin scoffed but smiled slightly in spite of himself. Martin's brothers, however, didn't seem amused. Judging by Khan's narrowed eyes, Smaug's obvious look of anger, and Peter's grip on his cup – Martin was surprised he hadn't broken the thing in half yet – they didn't realize that Douglas was joking. Or rather, they realized but they preferred to take it as an insult. Anything if it meant that they could sink their teeth and claws into the older man.

"Experience, from what I've learned, doesn't matter nearly as much as skill or perseverance," Khan told Douglas coldly. At that, even Bilbo stopped chuckling and everyone sobered up quickly. Douglas looked a bit shocked and Martin most certainly did not blame him.

"Yes, well, I was only-"

"A man of your age and physical appearance should be grateful and appreciative that a young thing like Martin fancies you," Smaug hissed, his face growing red with suppressed anger. "Considering how fat you are, the wrinkles lining your face, and that appalling grey hair, and the fact that you're in our kitchen in our house, insulting him only reflects poorly on you. Be glad I don't know where you live." At that, Douglas swallowed nervously. Under the table, Martin reached over and grabbed his hand. He was granted with a sweaty, tight squeeze in return and it made his heart ache knowing that his brothers were giving his boyfriend such a hard time. But honestly, he couldn't stop them. Once they got started, they wouldn't stop until they wanted to.

"I do," Peter said softly. Smaug wiped his head in his direction and looked at him.

"You do what?"

"I know where he lives," Peter said calmly and simply as though Douglas wasn't even there. "You know how it is," he added with a threatening smile.

"Now look here. I was only kidding around and I know that you're all quite smart enough to realize that," Douglas said, his voice never wavering although Martin knew that he was nervous and probably scared. "And I also know that none of you like me. We've just met after all, so that's understandable. However, I find that if Martin isn't offended by my jokes and jibes then neither should any of you be. He knows that if he's unhappy he may leave me at any time. But he hasn't; not yet, anyway, and I'm very happy about that. As his brothers, his happiness should be more important to you than trying to make me look like an arse."

Silence fell upon the kitchen for the hundredth time that night and Martin wanted to reach out and snog his boyfriend half to death while at the same time bury his head in his chest. Khan's face was blank and gave absolutely nothing away. Smaug's expression changed from angry to impressed. And Peter looked mildly surprise while impassive all at the same time. Bilbo, on the other hand, looked speechless and very much surprised. He was probably on Douglas' side; he had always been the first one to give the benefit of the doubt in any situation. Before anyone could say another word, Sherlock walked into the kitchen and scrutinized them all with the same piercing eyes that his brothers all had.

"Ah, so, I see that they'd made the introductions and have tried to scare you away," Sherlock said to Douglas, who could only nod slightly. "Obviously it didn't work. I told them as much this afternoon when they kicked me out of the kitchen after John left. A shame, really, as I was nearly finished with my eyeball and Jell-O experiment. But seeing as how I'm needed here, I will just have to finish it another day entirely. How dull." He sat down in the last remaining seat.

"Sherlock, this is Douglas. Douglas, my brother, Sherlock," Martin introduced immediately.

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock," Douglas said, looking relieved that someone else was there, someone who didn't seem ready to rip his head off.

"It's too early to tell if it's likewise, however seeing as how you were fired from Air England for smuggling, are still in the business of smuggling when your boss allows you to get away with it, and have a habit of scheming for fun, I believe that you could be of particular interest," Sherlock replied. That was as close as he got to saying 'nice to meet you too', for which Martin was incredibly grateful. Sherlock, naturally, noticed this and added with a smirk, "Oh, come now, Martin. One of us had to be civil and pleasant and it had to be me. Luckily, John assisted me in understanding the proper way to accept one's brother's significant other, although I must say that I find this entire dinner incredibly boring. We should have all gone out on a case together. Or to the morgue. Molly received a body today whose head has yet to be found. It promises to be most exciting as of right now."

"A decapitated body? Now that does sound exciting," Douglas said, half joking and half serious. Sherlock, however, didn't realize it. As brilliant as he was, things like emotions and humor easily escaped him.

"Doesn't it, though? Enough talking, though. You forced me down here," Sherlock told Khan, his eyes narrowed at the eldest brother. "I suppose I ought to refuel. John seems to like it when I eat." With that, he grabbed the spoon for the fettuccini alfredo and dished some out.

"Yes, I think that eating will put everyone in better spirits," Bilbo said, putting some pasta on his plate when Sherlock was finished. "Food always helps in stressful situations."

"Peter didn't poison the food this time," Sherlock mumbled to himself. "How dull."

"That's a good thing, Sherlock," Smaug told him as he grabbed a breadstick. "If he did, we'd all be poisoned."

"Not unless I slipped you all an antidote," Peter muttered.

"Douglas, I apologize for our behavior this evening," Khan told the older man, his expression serious and nonthreatening. "We are very protective of Martin, as he is the youngest, and we were unsure of how much he really means to you." Douglas stared at Khan for a moment, meeting his eyes bravely before responding.

"It's all right. I would do the same if I were in your position," Douglas said, a small smile tugging at his lips. Martin relaxed somewhat, but he wouldn't fully relax until the dinner was over. "However, might I make a few suggestions for the next time you all meet a significant other?"

"Only if they're helpful," Smaug said. Khan's eyes moved from Douglas to Smaug and he bent his head slightly and took a bite of his breadstick.

"Feel free," Khan replied.

"Instead of insults and threats, make them feel comfortable first before going in for the kill. 'Accidently' spill something on them or insult them in a subtle way that would take them a little while to figure out," Douglas said. "Little things like that, you know. And afterwards, pull them aside and threaten them. Less witnesses the better."

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Smaug muttered.

"But not entirely helpful as the only person left to find a partner is Peter," Sherlock added. "Although that's not entirely true, is it, Peter? How is Hector, by the way? You'll be meeting him tomorrow for coffee after work again, correct? I suppose that you'll attempt to persuade him to have sexual intercourse with you. He might say yes depending on how well his assassination will go tomorrow." Peter sent Sherlock a stern look.

"Sherlock…"

"Oh, was Hector's job a secret? Honestly, Peter, you never told me that," Sherlock said with a small smirk on his face. Martin quickly looked over at Douglas. He seemed to be relaxing a little bit. For once, Sherlock was actually helping out the situation instead of hindering something.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly, or as smooth as possible for Martin and his family. His brothers, although they still seemed unimpressed and clearly still disliked Douglas, were at least trying to not be wankers anymore. Douglas seemed to be trying his best to watch what he said and did for once. And by the time dinner was over, Martin was confident that his relationship with the older man was still in one piece and perhaps even a bit more interesting. But at least Douglas had finally met his brothers.

"You won't be staying the night?" Bilbo asked as Douglas and Martin headed towards the door. Martin was going home with him for the night as they had to be at MJN Air the following morning for a flight and Douglas' place was closer to work.

"No, I'm afraid not. We have a flight tomorrow," Douglas explained.

"So sorry. Wish we could stay, though. It has certainly been an interesting evening, hasn't it?" Martin said in a hurry, all but pushing Douglas out the front door.

"Have a safe trip, Martin," Peter called from the kitchen.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Smaug told him, pulling Martin into a hug. Martin didn't need to look at him to know that his older brother was staring intently at Douglas the whole time. "And no hand jobs while taking off, either."

"Smaug!" Martin cried out as he tore away from his brother, his face bright red.

"What? I'm sure you've done worse things on that airplane," Smaug said.

"Now that you mention it…" Douglas began. But one glare from Martin stopped him in his tracks. "Ah, never mind about that." Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw Khan's body tense ever so slightly.

"Douglas? A word before you go," Khan asked. The two of them headed outside and closed the door behind them. Lovely. Brilliant. Fantastic. His oldest brother was out there right now threatening his boyfriend. As if he needed that. Groaning, Martin put his head in his hand and shook his head.

"Be glad it was Khan and not Peter or myself," Smaug said to him. "Peter would probably shoot him outright. And myself…well, you know how much I love to play with fire." At that, Smaug gave him a predatory grin, one that promised pain and death for Douglas should he hurt Martin in any way.

"Smaug! Stop that right now," Bilbo said, frowning deeply. "Douglas seems like a nice chap. And he certainly had enough courage to make it the entire way through dinner with you lot. So give him credit where credit is due." The door opened up and Khan stepped inside, looking as calm and collected as usual while Douglas looked a little pale.

"Shall we go, Martin?" he asked the ginger.

"Yes! Yes, we shall. Right now, actually. I'll see you all later," Martin called. He heard them reply even as he closed the door on them. Walking beside Douglas, they made it to the car and got inside. Once inside, Martin sighed heavily and turned to his boyfriend.

"I am so, so sorry. Really, I am very, very sorry. I understand if you want to end things now. I would too," Martin rambled. "I told them to be nice and to not do what they did. I'm so, so sorry. Really, I-"

Douglas' lips were on his own, kissing him sweetly and reassuringly. Martin, after a slight pause, returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around Douglas' neck. He automatically relaxed sighed happily into the kiss. When Douglas pulled away, Martin's eyes were half lidded and his heart was beating like a drum.

"Although you look adorable when you apologize like that, there was really no need for it," Douglas reassured him with a smile on his face. "You gave me enough of a warning to be prepared and although they far exceeded my thoughts, I actually enjoyed dinner with your brothers."

"You…you did?" Martin asked, surprised.

"Yes, I did. We should do it again soon. However, I think it would be best if we get back, don't you?" Douglas asked, giving him a wink and a suggestive grin. Martin blushed but returned the grin.

"Yes. Let's," Martin said.

Without another word, they drove off.


End file.
